I Do What I Must
by Ebyru
Summary: Steve is a prince, but is treated more like a celebrity. Natasha is a peasant, but acts more like Robin Hood. They've come to an agreement.


**A/N: **_Prompts were: prince, seed, market, holly, string. I used most of those._

_Written for the shieldandgun weekly challenge on tumblr._

_Un-beta'd. Sorry._

* * *

It always starts the same way. Or, at least, they've never decided to go about it any other way. Even though the first time was an accident, just a chance meeting, they've turned it into a challenge now – for both of them.

XXX

Steve is pinned against the brick wall at his back, letting Natasha slide her tongue against his lips and teeth, bite into his neck, down his chest, all the while her hand stroking underneath the thin fabric of his purple and gold pants. She's doing it on purpose; making the blood flow solely to his groin. It's getting to be too much already. So much so he can't even stop himself from groaning aloud anymore. Luckily, her hand is over his mouth before anyone hears him slip.

They wouldn't want to be caught doing this, especially not before they get to the good part.

Natasha flicks the head of Steve's cock one last time – just to make sure he's as hard as plywood – and then backs away slowly, wrapping her face in her forest green scarf. No-one but Steve can tell she's a woman on these days, and that's exactly how she likes it. That's the only way she can get around without being bothered.

Steve waits for her to disappear through the crowd in the marketplace before stepping foot out of the safety of their hiding spot. It started here, and will always _be_ here, until – perhaps – someone notices the young couple one day, and forces them out.

There's a sliver of sunlight beaming on Steve's clothes from where he's standing, but it's enough for most of the villagers to flock to him. He steps fully out into the open, following them to their stands, refusing their gifts of fruit, scarves and jewellery, but his smile never faltering.

They don't realize he's smiling at _her_. Natasha. The one reaping all of the benefits of the prince's unexpected appearance.

Steve smiles at one of the vendors, his daughter blushing from that alone, and Natasha grabs as much fruit as her hands can carry, placing them into a basket. She moves on, and so does Steve. One of the people is selling silk scarves and Kashmir blankets; Steve knows how much Natasha – personally – likes those, so he stops, pointing at this one and that one, gushing over things he could care less about. He pretends to drop his gold coins, and, when the man behind the stall follows to help the prince retrieve them, Natasha grabs a handful of those products as well.

Natasha quickly ties the basket shut with silver ribbons and string – which she also stole – and signals her friend on one of the rooftops to throw down a rope. Meanwhile, Steve picks out flowers for Natasha and blankets for himself (since his current set is completely _catastrophic_).

The rope sidles down the side of a home made of wood, and Natasha attaches it to the basket, whistling once for them to pull it up and out of sight before people notice what's missing from their stalls. Natasha whistles again, softer this time, making an 'ok' sign at Steve when he glances her way.

Steve politely bids the villagers farewell, telling them he must return to the palace due to his father's summoning. Young women whine and plead for him to stay, the elders thank him loudly for having taken the time to visit, and everyone else offers him free trinkets and samples once more so that he'll return soon.

He takes what is offered, but only because he will give them to Natasha later. The poor that she helps need food and water, clothing and shelter, yes, but they may also like to have some possessions simply because of their appearance and not their purpose.

Steve goes back to the narrow, shadowy lane where this all started, and Natasha joins him from above, scaling the walls with ease.

They know how this goes next, and today isn't any different.

Natasha removes the scarf from her face, sweat collecting at her brow and neck, and she dips her hand back inside Steve's pants without uttering a word.

It was…difficult, to say the least, trying to keep himself aroused while children and seniors hugged him and smiled at him with admiration and fondness. Steve had to picture what he and Natasha had done last night to keep his erection from withering away into oblivion. The way Natasha swayed, hips rolling like waves of water, grinding down on his length as she closed her eyes, moaning and squeezing her breasts between her palms – that image alone was enough to keep Steve from failing the challenge.

Natasha grins when she feels the girth, the length, and the moisture steadily collecting at the head of Steve's cock.

"I guess we'll have to start finding ways to make this harder for you soon," she teases, sucking at Steve's prominent chin, tongue darting out briefly. "Don't you think, your highness?"

Steve's cock twitches in her palm, loving and loathing when Natasha refers to him that way, but unable to decide which emotion is stronger at the moment. He exhales, his chest bumping into hers, and Natasha sucks on Steve's bottom lip, gnawing it between her teeth, stroking his cock faster now.

It's not easy for Steve to last when Natasha knows _every_ move that makes him come undone. Her breath is hot in his ear; a flash of her cleavage is available to him – and him alone – when he looks down; her cheeks are flushed and her eyes dark with lust; her hand is tight, warm, persistent at the head of his cock, tugging with only his pre-come as lubricant, and it's enough.

Steve soils her hand as he climaxes, but this time Natasha isn't quick enough to cover up the sounds spilling out of him, so she swallows them with teeth and tongue, pressing her lips hard against his parted ones. Trying to catch his breath, Steve pets Natasha's cheek, wiping the sweat away with his thumb, caressing her worldly face. Her eyes look darker for some reason, and when her hand slips out of Steve's pants only to find its way between her swelling lips, Steve recognizes exactly why.

She sucks each finger clean, lashes lowered in a devious way, and her tongue gliding between her fingertips here and there. She stops for a moment, only just long enough to whisper: "Can't waste any of this royal seed, can we?"

And Steve _cannot_ handle that.

She barely has time to wrap her face in the cloth before he's dragging her back to the palace to finish what they've started. Fortunately, he purchased new bedding for them to use in his private quarters.


End file.
